


Armani

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 01:43:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11347311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Pendrell and Spender get into trouble in Mulder's apartment.





	Armani

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Armani by Drovar

Title: Armani  
Author/pseudonym: Drovar  
Email:   
Rating: NC-17  
Fandom: XF  
Pairings: Pendrell/Spender  
Date: 1/7/99  
Website: The Ferret Cage  
URL: http://www.ferret-cage.com/  
Summary: Pendrell and Spender get into trouble in Mulder's apartment.   
Category: Slash, sort of humor, sort of angst, sort of weird, part of the Mythos AU.  
Warnings: Ferret & Lab-Mouse up to some hanky-spanky, naughty stuff abounds.   
Disclaimers: Don't own `em, wish I did, don't sue, I'm just a poor XF fanboy.  
Notes: Another Pen & Jay story. After a night on the town the boys decide to pay a certain grumpy special agent FBI guy a visit. Features a surprisingly talented and limber Spender. It connects with my stories `Acranon', `Tooms', and 'Shae D' el'. One further note, at the time of this story Spender & Pendrell have had an established relationship for sometime, and Mulder and Spender have reached a grudging half-brother accommodation.

* * *

Armani  
By Drovar

Pendrell didn't think he was all that drunk, well not really drunk, not stinking, fall down, throw-up drunk, not yet anyway. He looked down at his drink, he couldn't really remember what it was called, but it was one of those fruity things with a little umbrella, and a surprising kick. He liked it. He liked it even more than he had liked his first or his second . . . or his . . . or his . . . How many of these had he had? 

Spender would know, he always knew things like that. He knew how many eggs were in the fridge, how much gas was in the car, all those kind of things. His own mind was quick enough, he supposed, able to cut to the heart of a scientific question, or reduce a laboratory conundrum to its solvable components. However Spender was special, Jay Spender had a knack. He knew obscure, but important things, he could pull together data from widely scattered files and distill them into a cogent theory, and play a damn mean game of racquetball at the same time. Mulder had that knack.

Mulder. Pendrell stirred his drink, the smell of fruit and maybe rum filled his senses for a moment. Spender's half-brother, the two of them reconciled, sort-of, his ex-lover. Mulder, the name echoed in his thoughts. He pulled the little umbrella and downed half of the drink feeling the cleansing burn as he swallowed. He knew medically that the warmth was an illusion, caused by the alcohol irritating his throat, but still, he felt warmer. 

Then there was Mulder. The name resonated inside him in ways that he still couldn't quite grasp or understand. Two years done and passed, two years since their relationship crashed and burned. Two years and he still felt fumbly and embarrassed around the man. What was it going to take to get out from under that seductive shadow?

He looked around the nearly empty room. Two urban cowboys, both probable DC desk-jockeys, were necking in a side booth, while the bartender did a half-hearted job of cleaning the bar. 

Once his eyes stopped rolling, he spotted Spender at the dilapidated juke box pumping in quarters, and gyrating in a gangly, loose-hipped dance. It was a sight that never failed to make Pendrell perk up. It looked even better in jeans than in Spender's usual, drab, 'take me serious' suits. They'd been in The Corral for over an hour, drinking and talking, and drinking. Pendrell was surprised Spender could move at all, let alone so provocatively, he'd been downing some bar specialty called floaters for a while.

The jukebox was blaring a song Pendrell remembered from a few years back, something about Elvis, he thought. The female singer's voice was strangely sensual, with a hard-edged drawl that crawled up your spine on its way to your brain. Pendrell liked that in a woman.

He stood, feeling the room tilt wildly, then settle, and toddled over, drink in hand. He leaned one elbow against the jukebox, and popped the tip of the little umbrella stick into his mouth. "Hey cowboy," Pendrell said through clenched teeth, "how about buying a sailor a drink." 

Spender turned, his seriousness breaking into a wide leering grin. "Black Velvet," he crooned, placing his hands on Pendrell's hips and swiveling his own hips in sinuous gyrations, matching the beat of the music. "Black Velvet, and a soft southern style." Spender's voice matched the woman's note for note, inflection for inflection, adding a sexy base growl to the already sensual music. Pendrell always marveled at this transformation. As soon as Spender began to sing his voice lost it's reedy, thin quality and became a thick, melodious, growl of a voice. The man had a great set of lungs.

"A new religion that'll bring you to your knees." Spender dropped to his knees at Pendrell's feet, arching his back and leaning over backwards until his shoulders touched the floor. Spender began to thrust his hips in time with the music, his voice rising with the song toward its slow drawn-out, but cathartic crescendo. "Black velvet . . . If you please."

Pendrell jerked, and spat out his umbrella, when raucous cheers erupted behind him. He turned to find both cowboys and the bar tender standing at the near ending of the bar clapping and hooting. Pendrell dragged the grinning, mostly drunk Spender to his feet and pushed him toward the door, nodding politely to shouts of 'encore' and 'show us some skin.' 

* * *

The air outside was cool for August in DC; the night sky was heavily overcast with gathering storm clouds. Spender stopped, leaning against the bar's front wall while Pendrell checked the sky. Weather forecasts had been calling for thunderstorms overnight. The thick clouds blocked all light from the night sky, leaving the world profoundly dark. Pendrell could feel a downward splay of cold air, and in the near West sky he could see the first flashes of lightning. He even thought he could smell ozone in the air.

"Feels like rain, Jay, and lots of it." Pendrell started to say as he turned to face the bar. His words were cut short when eager hands slipped around his waist, and demanding lips pressed against his. Anxiety, decorum, and shyness seemed to leach out of his body as he felt Spender's crotch beginning to grind against his own. Agile hands drifted up his back, pulling and embracing, deepening the kiss. Spender's hands paused there, enforcing the kiss, and then slid down to Pendrell's ass, kneading and squeezing. Pendrell felt his own passion rising as his body responded to the assault. 

Pendrell broke the kiss and began to lick and suck along Spender's neck. Spender sighed deeply and ran his fingers through Pendrell's hair. The world shrank down in Pendrell's view, until all it encompassed were their own straining bodies, pressed close in the darkness. 

There was a short trill of country music as the bar door swung open. Pendrell broke the deepness of the embrace, shattering their tight little world. Both cowboys stepped out, stopping to stare openly, Pendrell couldn't say he blamed them. "We've got company Jay." he said before returning his lips to the warm skin. Spender moaned slightly and shifted position, pressing his crotch into Pendrell's thigh.

Spender finally turned and grinned through the darkness at the spectators, and then looked up at the looming storm. Large raindrops began to splatter the ground, as deep rumbling flowed down from the dark night sky. Pendrell suddenly felt Spender slide away and grab his hand. "Come on Pen, or we're going to get wet." Spender yelled as he dragged Pendrell across the parking lot, away from the bar. 

Thunder crashed overhead again, closer, and louder this time. Spender laughed and ran, nearly pulling Pendrell off his feet as they raced across the lot. Pendrell felt the cold downdraft of on rushing storm as Spender dragged him under a copse of large pines at the edge of the parking lot. "But the car's behind the bar." Pendrell yelled as the storm flashed the sky with brilliant lightning and shattered into a downpour.

"Yeah I know." Spender said as he stepped up behind Pendrell, and suddenly pulled him backwards, further into the sheltering trees. Pendrell could smell the alcohol on Spender's breath as he whispered into his ear, alternately nibbling and murmuring obscene suggestions. Spender began grinding his crotch into Pendrell's ass, murmuring and pushing.

"Do you like that, baby?" Spender whispered into his ear, his breath warm, and laden with sin. "Do you want me to take you here? Now?" Pendrell groaned and began to thrust backwards against Spender's hardness. "Ever done it in the woods, Pen? Ever done it on bed of pine needles, ever felt your bare ass on the ground, felt it grinding into the dirt, your legs in the air, calling your lover's name into the night like the Valkryies screaming down from Valhalla?"

Spender moved again and Pendrell felt his cock, now free of its denim lair, prodding at his ass. The darkness here, deep in the trees, was nearly complete. Vague light from the bar, and one lone street light offered little real illumination. The pine canopy hung so thick and full above that Pendrell could only hear the rain falling and felt only the suggestion of water on his skin. His hand went back, sliding along Spender's hip and then diving down to grasp the massive cock at its base, and squeezed. Spender shuddered lightly under his grasp and moaned out loud.

Pendrell pivoted on his right foot and grabbed Spender behind the neck and pulled him into a punishing kiss. He pumped the cock in his hand twice enjoying the fresh groan this elicited. "Yes, I have." Pendrell whispered, then freed his own cock. 

Pendrell continued to kiss and stroke, as he brought Spender closer to the edge. With a sudden move Pendrell stepped aside and yanked Spender forward by his heavy cock. Pendrell turned on his right heel as Spender yelped and stumbled forward, catching himself before running into a tree. Pendrell completed his turn and ended up directly behind Spender. He slammed his cock against Spender's ass and began to pump Spender's cock furiously. Spender squirmed and groaned under the sudden reversal.

"C'mon give it up for me, baby," Pendrell breathed into Spender's ear as he stroked, his hand a blur of motion in the dim light. Spender groaned and pushed his ass against Pendrell's hard cock. His hands grasping and clenching on the tree bark, "Oh Jesus, Pen" Spender gasped. 

"Gimmie the chant, Jay" Pendrell demanded, as he continued to pump and grind, feeling his fist grow slick from Spender's copious leaking. He was close, very close, they both were. 

"Wha?"

"The chant, give it up."

"Jesus, Pen I can't even think." Spender's words were thick and slurred with lust.

Pendrell squeezed, and ran his hand tightly down the long shaft, pulling the loose foreskin tight around the head. Spender groaned, and bucked against the restraining hand. Pendrell's other hand came up, searched out and found a nipple. He began pinching and pulling, feeling the small nub grow immediately hard, through the cotton western shirt.

"Gimmie the chant," Pendrell demanded again as his other hand returned to its industrious pumping. Spender bucked silently under the new attack.

"You . . . you, start," Spender said, almost breathlessly. 

"Fair enough," Pendrell said. His own breath was beginning to come in short dragging huffs as he pumped his cock against Spender's ass.

"Why do we do this?" Pendrell asked.

"Because we're young," Spender answered between gasps.

"Why do we do this?"

". . . cause we're hung."

"Why do we do this?"

" . . . 'cause we're . F"

Pendrell stroked down hard.

". . .B" Spender managed to gasp.

Pendrell stroked.

". . . I"

The letter melded into a shuddering groan as Spender arched his back inward and thrust out with his hips. Pendrell felt the rushing convulsions and stroked madly. Spender staggered forward, the strength gone from his legs as the orgasm rolled through him. Pendrell followed him down to the ground stroking, and squeezing until Spender's sharp gasping groans turned to moans and then silence.

"Jesus, Pen" Spender said as he began to recover. "You're in a mood tonight." Even here in the darkness of the pines Pendrell could almost see the gleam in Spender's eyes when he rolled over, his long cock flopping over one jean covered thigh. His voice was sated joy, a need fulfilled. So different from when they had first met in the lab, different time, different place, it was a different world really. 

Pendrell leaned back against a tree, stroking himself in the dimness. Spender scooted over quickly and replaced Pendrell's hand with his lips. Pendrell sighed in near contentment. Yes, it had been a very different world then.

The rain had nearly stopped by the time they left the copse, receding to a fine, sputtering mist. Pendrell felt a little grungy, but well satisfied with the night's events. Surprisingly he felt slightly drunker than he had when they left the bar.

"Where did you dig that Valkryie, stuff up from?" Pendrell asked as they began to walk. Spender seemed content to continue walking, swaying ever so slightly, rather than return to the car. 

"High School Mythology. The Valkryie were the handmaiden's of Odin, Choosers of the slain," he paused, yawned, and stretched. "Mulder's not the only one with a good memory, I suppose it's genetic."

Pendrell shivered slightly in the cool night air. Mulder, it all came back to Mulder. The name flew past Pendrell and settled high above mocking and calling him. There was history there, time spent in the calm eye of the hurricane, history for both of them. History that somehow, someday, would have to be dealt with, someday, but not tonight, not on this cool, crisp, utterly dark night.

The two men walked along silently for a while satisfied with each other's company. Needing few words passing between them. A scent, a nod, a hand lingering on skin, it was enough.. Eventually Spender stopped on the sidewalk, as if coming awake from his half-drunk stupor, and looked around. Pendrell realized that the area looked a little familiar.

"Doesn't Mulder live around here somewhere Pen?" Spender asked as he scanned the buildings. Pendrell ran a hand through his mist dampened hair. Well, they were, after all, in Arlington, and they had been walking for a while. He supposed it was possible. Pendrell started to suggest that they go back to the car, the walk, even the cold night air had done nothing to sober either of them, when Spender grabbed his elbow and pointed between two building to their right. "There it is Pen, come on" Spender said as he lurched into a walk. Pendrell groaned inwardly. Facing Spender's volatile half-brother while they were well past half drunk on booze and sex, was bound to be a bad thing, a very bad thing.

* * *

Minutes later they were standing at Mulder's door. They had knocked several times, with no answer. Pendrell realized that the neighbors had to be getting suspicious by now. Of course it probably wasn't the first time they had seen two drunken louts banging on Mulder's door. "We should get going Jay," Pendrell said as he looked both ways down the hallway. He felt a little sick, and unsure, and maybe still just a little horny. "He isn't home anyway."

"Not yet," Spender said from his kneeling spot on the floor. Pendrell looked down in surprise. Spender had worked a thin tool into the lock and was manipulating it and listening, intently. There was a short click and he stood up, grinning, he opened the door and stepped into Mulder's apartment. "I'm family, he should have invited us over ages ago."

"Oh shit, Jay" Pendrell sputtered as he quickly followed and shut the door. "Where did you learn to do that?" Spender turned and tucked the tool into a pocket inside his jacket. "An old friend, taught me." Pendrell stepped further into the apartment, not replying. He had an idea just which rat-bastard this 'old friend' was and really didn't want to know anything more.

Mulder's apartment was dark except for the glow from the ever-present fish tank and a small kitchen light that illuminated a simply enormous bowl of citrus fruit. "Hey Jay, look at this." Pendrell said as he stepped over to the bowl. There were oranges, tangerines, a couple of pungent fruits he couldn't easily identify and two huge grapefruits. 

"Huh," Spender snorted as made his way down the hallway toward the apartment's back rooms. "Maybe he's got a touch of beriberi, or scurvy or something." Pendrell nodded absently and turned back toward the living room. 

He could hear Spender moving around in the hallway, snooping. Pendrell fidgeted with his collar, he felt damp, sneezy, disconcerted and out of place. He stepped up to the windows. The curtains were drawn against the cool night and only a small slit let in light from outside. He looked out onto the street expecting to see an angry Mulder charging toward the building. The streets of Arlington were still, wet and silent. 

Pendrell turned away from the curtain and surveyed the room. The apartment looked the same, just like it always had. The goofy pool-ball coat rack near the door, the old leather couch, no worse for repeated wear, the fish tank, and the omnipresent television, all the same. He ran his fingers over the pitted, but freshly polished wood of the clock on Mulder's table. He remembered the purchase, Maine, a seaport town, sleepy bed & breakfast, the tourist bit, and the carefully mulled over antiques. Pendrell knew some of what ghosts and echoes haunted this place. 

Pendrell stifled a yawn as a sudden wave of weariness and memory swept over him. He felt tired, more tired than he had in a long time. He stepped over to the couch and sat, feeling the familiar sag, the peculiar Mulder smell it had. The old Navaho blanket rested in it's regular spot at the end of the couch. Pendrell ran his hand over the rough cloth, feeling the course thread catching at the skin of his fingers. There were reds overlapping blues in repeating patterns that seemed to run deep into the fabric. Pendrell felt a moment of vertigo and disorientation. 

He rubbed his eyes, feeling nearly overwhelming weariness deep in his bones. He opened his eyes and looked up into darkness. 

Whatthefuck?

He jumped up from the couch, except that he didn't seem to be sitting on the couch anymore. He was standing in darkness and only succeeded in stumbling forward awkwardly.

Whatthefuck?

There was a light moving in the darkness. It was flame, he realized. It took a moment for his eyes to resolve the flame into a torch. A torch that was carried by what had to be the oldest woman that had ever lived. Her long white hair flowed over white robes, her gnarled hand clutched at an even more gnarled cane. Her vastly wrinkled face looked into his own, as she finally drew near. She looked up at him from her bent position and began to speak. The voice was strong and smooth, hardly the graveled cackle Pendrell expected.

"There's deep holes in the world child; deep holes enough to swallow man. I'm not talking just a man. I'm saying' all men, all people. People that hate; those that don't. People that have seen Gods; those that won't. There's deep holes in the world child. Deep enough to swallow your soul. Now you keep your faith and you keep that man, safe; even though he's not your man. You keep him, and help them that are close to him, and don't let those outside near him. Those that wait, and gnaw at the world. They want him. They mean to have him. Now you listen child; that man's a special one. Things turn around him, people, and things that happen, they turn right around him. Turning and boiling. Those that wait outside, eating at the underbelly of the world. They know it. It's him they want; and they'll kill me and you and your man, and all that touch on him to bring him into their service. There's deep holes in the world child and their out there waiting."

Pendrell felt his sanity wavering. He was hallucinating. Dreams fueled by alcohol and fatigue that was all this was. He tried to speak, scream for Jay to awaken him from insanity. All he could manage was a small inarticulate croak.

"It's not your time yet child. You go on back, and keep him safe, keep them all safe. You got things to do and places to be. I won't be there for it. But someday, you'll be back. You'll come. Look for the light, and you'll find me. Look for the light, always look."

Pendrell jerked awake. He was breathing hard, his pulse pounding. He was clutching the blanket to his chest. He carefully replaced it on the arm of the couch, just like it always was and stood. It had been a dream, just a fucking dream, nothing more. He could hear Spender rummaging around in a hall closet. The image of the old woman lingered for a moment in his thoughts and then it slid away.

Pendrell drew in breath to call Spender and convince him to leave, now, when a small motion near Mulder's computer caught his eye. He tracked the movement. It was something small, a house cat maybe, though he hadn't seen any signs of a cat in the apartment. Besides Mulder had never been a cat sort of guy. Things were getting just too weird. Pendrell watched as the thing, whatever it was, disappeared under the computer desk. Pendrell dropped to his knees and looked, something tonight was going to have a damned logical explanation. He expected to see a frightened kitten huddled beneath the desk, but there was nothing.

He looked on both sides and back under the desk. Nothing there except a wall vent for a heating duct. It was much too small for even a mouse to slide through. Maybe he was imagining things after all. He was drunk, that's all tonight events meant. Alcohol fueled delirium, that was all.

"Hey Pen." 

Pendrell jumped at the sound, smacking his head against the bottom of the computer desk, hard. He saw a movement in the duct, behind the grate. Pendrell peered into the vent but what ever had been there was gone. He thought for a moment that he smelled a hint of citrus in the ductwork, then it too was gone.

Damn, he was drunker than he thought; drunk, crazy, and horny, a pretty sad combination.

"Pen, what do you think?"

Pendrell rolled into a sitting position beside the desk. He blinked twice. Oh Fuck. Spender stood next to the fruit bowl, biting into the skin of a tangerine. He'd put on one of Mulder's suits. Check that, Mulder's slate-gray Armani. He'd added Mulder's reading glasses, and what was probably the ugliest, most vibrant green tie in existence, as well. The light-weight suit drooped from Spender's smaller frame, folding and bunching at the elbows and cascading over his wrists, almost to the tips of his fingers, like a boy's prom tuxedo, ordered two sizes too large. 

Pendrell tried to stand, and instead staggered and crumpled into a discordant tangle next to the coffee table. He looked again. Spender had gnawed a hole in the tangerine's orange hide and was loudly sucking the juice from it. He couldn't know, he didn't, he couldn't. He trusted Spender, had since that first encounter in the lab. However, there were some things left better unsaid, some things that made even true love wince, Mulder figured into a lot of those.

"What the hell are you doing, Jay?"

Spender opened his eyes, looking down his nose, and past the fruit at his lips. He grinned, though it was more a drunken leer, and tossed the mutilated citrus into the trash before sauntering into the living room. 

"Just trying on some of big brother's stuff."

The suit pants were long, cascaded down his legs, pooling around his ankles and flapping beneath his heels as he walked. He stepped around the coffee table and threw himself down on the couch, stretched, yawned, and scratched

"Haven't ever wondered what it would be like? Spender asked.

Pendrell blinked. How much did he suspect? Spender had joined the FBI long after the `situation' with Mulder had been resolved, to their mutual dissatisfaction. They had been circumspect, cautious, and even paranoid. Late night lab work went unnoticed and unremarked. He could trust the few who knew, he hoped. 

"What do you mean?" Pendrell answered, hoping that his voice carried just the right amount of disinterest to seem believable.

"You know, with him, with The Man." Spender chuckled at his own slight joke and yawned again. 

Pendrell stood finally, using the coffee table for balance, and rubbed the bump on his head. He could feel a definite headache coming on. His thoughts and senses felt muzzy, and indistinct, as if he were seeing and hearing things at a distance. Spender was on Mulder's couch, THE couch. Pendrell took a halting step toward the faux Mulder. 

"I mean, I know the two of you spent a lot of late nights down in the lab. Didn't he ever put the moves on you? Shy, lonely, lab-mouse, you would have been easy prey for oversexed Spooky Mulder." 

Pendrell's stance wavered, he sat down on the couch next to Spender. Their hips touched lightly, blue denim scratching against gray cotton. Spender's eyes, even in the dim light, showed no hint of guile or deceit, indeed his eyes were glazed with a certain child-bright contentment. In the apartment's dimness, dressed in Mulder's suit, Spender could almost be Mulder, with very little imagination Pendrell could see the full pouting lips, and broad, almost homely nose. 

Pendrell could see Spender's ring reflecting the dim light from the kitchen. He wore it on his right hand, in deference to FBI decorum, but the symbolism was still there. Pendrell placed his hand over the ring, feeling the warm skin beneath. He leaned over and brought the hand up to his lips kissing the ring softly. Almost, he could almost see telling him everything. All about the abrupt beginning of the affair, the incredible sex, the slow bank into uncertainty, and the final hurtful dissolution by agreement. 

Sex with Mulder had been mind expanding, but it left him feeling schizophrenic. He felt intensely aroused and almost clinically distant. He had put it off as just his initial reluctance to admit the true nature of his sexual confusion. After a few months he'd begun to wake at night with vivid and disturbing dreams, which became increasingly psychotic as time went by. Eventually he began to sleep-walk, often waking to find himself sitting in the dark living room, or standing in front of an open window, cold and wet from rain.

Things became even worse when they spent the night here at Mulder's. He'd become filled with nervous energy and slept little or fell into somnambulism, or nightmares when he did sleep. They had finally called it quits two summers ago and his life had slowly returned to a semblance of normality. What he and Mulder shared had been wild, passionate, and ultimately destructive.

In a portentous moment, Pendrell struggled to say the hard, hurtful truth. He almost could say it, could almost let go of the past and it's shadows and memories, but only almost. "No, never," he lied. He scooted down the couch, giving himself some room near Spender's legs. He leaned down, placing his head on Spender's chest. The light cotton felt smooth, and cool, the slick material felt familiar on his skin, and vaguely arousing. With a sudden sense of Deja Vu he realized that he had been in this exact same position with Mulder.

"Hmmm never, really? You ever put the moves on him instead?"

Pendrell lifted his hips and swung himself onto the couch between Spender's legs, his face just below his chest. Pendrell reached down and undid two suit buttons. Oh lord, he even smelled like Mulder. He slid his hands beneath the suit coat feeling the smooth slowly rising and falling flesh beneath. He touched his lips to the fair skin, the familiar taste mingled with the smell of leather and Mulder.

"Ever run your hand up one of those long legs, when he was bent over to look at some germ or bug on a slide?"

Pendrell slid his full weight onto Spender's body and felt him sink further into the couch. He could feel Spender's slowly hardening cock pressing against his stomach, the light cotton of Mulder's suit provided little barrier against the sensation. 

He pressed his weight down fully on Spender's crotch, grinding and shifting the nearly hard cock in the tightness between their bodies. Spender moaned in a staccato burst and thrust back. Two more buttons were undone, leaving Spender's chest open to assault from lips, tongue, and fingers. Two quick nips from gentle teeth brought Spender's nipples to full attention and elicited further moans.

Pendrell slid further up, bringing their crotches into rough grinding contact. His mouth dived down finding again the delightful skin on Spender's neck. Spender's Armani clad arms wrapped around his chest and squeezed. Pendrell could feel the heat of Spender's body through their clothes, could actually feel the blood coursing through him where their bare skin touched.

Spender put his hand on the back of Pendrell's neck, gently ruffled the short hair on his nape and then pulled himself up until his lips were near Pendrell's ear. "Promise me, Pen," he whispered. "Promise me, that this is for always."

Pendrell shifted to softly nibbling an earlobe, as he slid a hand between them, unfastening and unbuttoning. "Always" Pendrell said. Spender relaxed back onto the couch, his eyes, still wide and soft.

"You'll never leave me? Never shove off for greener pastures?'

"Never," Pendrell replied kissing the chest between two nipples.

"Till death do us part?"

"Forever," Pendrell replied as he slid further down Spender's body, trailing kisses and soft nibbles.

"In sickness and in health."

"For richer for poorer." Pendrell pulled the suit pants completely off and freed Spender's cock. He lifted it and nuzzled for a moment at the base where it joined the ball-sac, enjoying the hot, meaty feel of it on his cheek. He tongued the testicles in turn taking each one gently into his mouth.

Spender sighed and raised his knees, allowing Pendrell greater access. The white suit pants were quickly discarded, landing in a wrinkled pile on the floor. Pendrell slid down, licking and nibbling along Spender's perineum. The skin was warm, delicately soft, and nearly hairless. Pendrell breathed in Spender's scent, wallowing in the maleness of it. 

He had always considered this the most profoundly intimate part of a man. It was a place of skin and creases that seemed to belong somehow to the deep heart of a man's body and not the simple surface skin. He slid his hand down the length of the channel, his nails scratching lightly against the tender skin. Spender twitched and groaned when the nails scratched lightly over his ring of puckered muscle.

"Ah Pen, please, I need you."

Pendrell sat upright, sliding a hand up, and then back down the long cock, watching the ample foreskin covering and uncovering the large head. He bent down and slipped his tongue into the loose skin, sliding the tip into and along the narrow channel until it completely circled the head. Spender bucked lightly at the first pass and groaned through the second.

"How do you need me?" Pendrell asked before taking the entire large head into this mouth. It was bitter and velvet. He could feel the foreskin in his mouth. He pulled it up between his teeth, biting just enough for Spender to feel the sensation of teeth. Spender writhed, his hands, pulling at Pendrell's hair, and stroking gently.

"Inside . . . ah," Spender said between gasps. "All of you, inside me. Pendrell stooped for a moment, the words rang so loudly with memory that he hesitated. His last night together with Mulder had been much like this. The same needing, the same heated desire, but that night had lacked this sweet eagerness. That had been just two summers ago, how could he have forgotten? Pendrell eased himself off the couch, went to the desk, and retrieved a small bottle of lube. It was just where it had always been, just where he knew it would be.

Spender lifted himself as Pendrell settled against him and quickly lubed both of them, slowly sliding first one finger, then another, into Spender, helping the tight muscle become accustomed to the intrusion. Spender's cock remained solid and hard, flaying across his stomach as he ground himself on the welcome fingers. Pendrell set the head of his cock against Spender's tight entrance and pushed, as gently as he could given the urgent need they both felt. He was always surprised at the ease of first penetration.

Spender gasped then sighed, his body seeming to loose all tension, except for his still hard cock, as Pendrell penetrated deeper. With a final gasp of his own Pendrell felt himself come to a rest against Spender's body. He began to move slowly, rocking gently at first and then with more vigor as Spender encouraged him with small body signs and moans.

Pendrell caught a movement in the corner of his eyes, he stroked harder, feeling the sweat beginning to form in a light sheen on their bodies. Spender moaned anew at the deeper thrust. Pendrell looked around the room as he fought to maintain a rhythm. There was definitely something here, Mulder had some sort of small animal, a rat, or something loose. At least he hoped that that was all it was.

"Sing for me." Pendrell said. He stroked again, trying not to be obvious as he examined the room.

"Wha.?' 

Pendrell grinned just a little at Spender's confusion. So often during sex he seemed to epitomize the words `fucked silly.' It its own decadent way, it was sweet. 

"Now Pen?" Spender asked between gasps. "Not exactly . . . " Pendrell pushed harder eliciting a florid string of prayers and profanities. " . . . the best time for controlled breathing." Spender concluded. 

Pendrell ran his hand up the long shaft of Spender's cock settling on the head, massaging and twisting gently and then firmly. "Then close your eyes and hum." Pendrell answered. "I want to hear your voice."

Spender settled deeper into the couch's old, supple leather. Pendrell could barely see a smile creeping up on his lips. The hum started low, barely perceptible, even in the stillness of the apartment, mixing with the fuller sounds of skin on skin, and leather. The humming became louder as Pendrell began to feel sweat pooling between their bodies, and the subtle slide of skin on sweat slicked leather. Spender's hands were suddenly at Pendrell's nipples, tugging and pulling. Pendrell jerked slightly, He was ticklish, and Jay knew that fact very well, the bastard.

Pendrell felt the moisture of Spender pre-cum on his hand as he stroked, they were both getting close. He began pushing in earnest, blocking his feet against the couch arm behind him. He leaned heavily against his left arm as his right continued to stroke. Spenders hands left Pendrell's nipples and dropped to the couch, pushing and straining to match his rhythm.

The hum seemed familiar but it took Pendrell some moments to place it. Something from the 70's, an obscure Fleetwood Mac tune. Jay's taste in music had always been retro. Pendrell felt the rising trill of orgasm approaching as Spender began to sing. The voice was stuttering and staccato, singing was an obvious effort, and a extraordinary display of breath control considering the circumstances.

What a wonderful night to be.

The stars must be my friends to shine for me.

Spender's voice arced high and long, stretching the few words out into a sultry ballad. Pendrell groaned as he felt his own approaching orgasm. The song was sweet, schmaltzy, and utterly appropriate. Words held secrets, he knew, secrets, power and magic, the power of love, need and truth.

Pendrell felt Spender's internal muscles flex and contract as his orgasm rapidly approached. Pendrell collapsed onto Spender's taut body, still thrusting and stroking, as the climax rushed through them. Somewhere deep within the swirling, gasping throes of his own release he could still hear Spender singing softly.

Come on baby, now don't you be cold

Just remember that love is gold

We will never forget tonight.

What a wonderful night to be .

* * *

Pendrell blinked. His head hurt, a lot. The room was bright, so bright. He blinked again, all the shouting wasn't helping either. Slowly and carefully he raised his eyes and squinted. There was so much light, damn it was bright. Somewhere in the harshness, he could see Mulder, or maybe Skinner, possibly Scully, he wasn't entirely sure, holding what might or might not be a gun on him, actually on them, he realized as he felt Spender stir beneath him.

He blinked again, feeling his eyes water and then clear slightly. Mulder squashed nose, dimpled chin, full chewable lips, defiantly Mulder. He was yelling, "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't shoot you, right now," bad sign.

Clean towels sat in a tidy pile on the coffee table, good sign. Unless they were for cleaning up the blood, bad sign. His voice was raspy and dry when he finally croaked out an answer. "Because I'm young, cute, and hungover? Pendrell moved slightly off Spender and felt the dry stickiness between them. He looked down at their matted bodies and then back up at Mulder, "Or maybe just hung?"

Mulder studied him for a moment, frowning as if trying to decide if murder or just plain bodily mayhem was sufficient. He sighed with a sound that seemed to express a lifetime of feeling put-upon and abused. "I always knew you were a slut Pendrell, now get yourself and baby brother cleaned up and fuck out of here, I've got company coming."

Mulder retreated to the kitchen where Pendrell could here him rummaging around, the smell of fresh coffee quickly filled the apartment. Pendrell cleaned them up as best he could, removing as much evidence of their activities from themselves and the couch as he could. Mulder returned to the living room, and collected his corrupted Armani. 

"You in the shower," Mulder said, pointing at Spender. "You, in the kitchen" he said pointing at Pendrell. "And for Christ's sake, cover up I already know you better than I want to."

Pendrell wrapped one towel around himself, handed one to Spender, and watched him gather his clothes in sheepish silence and trot down the hall to the bathroom. As he reached the bathroom door, Spender turned, winked at Pendrell, and stepped inside. In moments the sounds of the shower filled the apartment.

Pendrell gathered his clothes and stepped into the kitchen. Mulder poured two mugs of coffee and handed one to him. Pendrell sipped the hot coffee, it was dark, strong and slightly bitter. He looked up from his cup to find Mulder staring at him.

The stare was the same, questioning, skeptical, alluring. Pendrell had loved that look once. "Look Mulder," he began. Mulder, the name was an echo, familiar but oddly distant. Perhaps it was better this way. Best to keep old lovers at arms length. When the old lover was Fox Mulder even that was too close. 

Pendrell's gaze dropped back down to his coffee cup as he spoke. There was danger in looking into those eyes for to long; a danger of getting lost in their depths and never finding your way out. "I'm sorry about this. We didn't mean any real harm, not really."

"You break into my apartment, you and my sneak of a half-brother fuck on my couch like rabid weasels, you ruin one of my best Armani, and you don't mean any harm?". Mulder punctuated his words by jabbing the soiled suit into Pendrell's chest.

Pendrell winced. "Not really."

Mulder looked at him with a mixture of frustration and slowly growing resignation. "No I suppose not," he said. Mulder stepped past Pendrell and deposited the suit in the trash. Pendrell could still hear the shower, and Spender humming. He sipped his coffee and started to turn and apologize to Mulder again when he felt large, strong hands suddenly massaging his shoulder. Pendrell shivered. "The last time you were here Sean," Mulder said, moving to stroke the tender skin of Pendrell's neck. "I was the one wearing that suit."

The hands caressed along his shoulders, feeling, and rubbing at muscles that were sore from a short sleep in an awkward position. The touch was soothing, familiar, and annoyingly arousing. "Please don't do this." Pendrell said weakly as he felt Mulder's lips on his neck, nibbling, sucking, and gently biting. He felt Mulder's hands tugging at the towel and the hard press of his wrinkled suit against his own naked flesh. 

"Please, Mulder." He said. Things were moving so fast, spinning in his head. Mulder's hands were moving across his skin, leaving small trails of fire as they went. The mouth had moved from shoulder to collar bone, to neck and was now dancing at the edge of his own lips. The towel fell away and Pendrell felt a gripping hand wrap around the base of his suddenly hardened cock. 

Pendrell groaned and leaned against the hard body clutching his. He struggled to understand his flagrant arousal. Mulder's touch was electric, profoundly erotic, it left him panting and ecstatic, but why? He thought he had put this relationship behind him years ago. Still, here he was bare-assed in the man's kitchen, sporting the hard-on from hell, and all with a touch. He wouldn't do this to Jay, he decided, he couldn't and wouldn't.

He felt his resolve slipping as Mulder turned him around, forced him backward against the cabinetry and began kissing his chest and dropping lower. Pendrell fought for mental balance, tried to fight down his arousal, and regain control. He arched his back and nearly screamed when he felt the first brush of Mulder's warm lips on his cock. The room seemed to be spinning, his mind was spinning, perhaps even his soul as well.

"Please, stop don't . . ." Pendrell moaned. "Please don't . . . Oh God, please no." Pendrell felt his resolve vanish as Mulder's mouth finally closed on the head of his cock. Everywhere Mulder touched Pendrell could almost feel the flesh searing from his bones. He was lost, everything was lost. He groaned in arousal, and defeat, and let the last of his will dissolve into the waves of sensation.

For long moments there was nothing but the feel of Mulder's mouth on his skin, sucking, demanding, thrilling. Pendrell felt the need for this man keening inside himself, screaming like a banshee wail through his spirit. It was a need almost preternatural in its strength. However, even deep his passion, something called to him, just at the edge of his perception, something nettled, and jittered, and demanded notice.

Above the sounds of their passion he heard the shower stop running, and Jay's voice, half humming half singing. 

What a wonderful night to be The stars must be my friends to shine for me.

Pendrell grinned at the long string `oh hoo hoo's ` that followed, in a muffled voice. Pendrell could imagine it, only Jay would vamp through the chorus, never missing a beat while drying his hair with a towel.

Pendrell blinked. What the hell was he doing? His mind was suddenly screaming, as suppressed synapses snapped shut, sending an adrenaline surge through his body. In a full-body rush Pendrell came back to himself and recoiled. A wave of vertigo rose over him, he felt a lurch in his thoughts, it was an almost physical kick. 

Pendrell put his hands on Mulder's shoulders and pushed, sending the startled FBI man slamming into the cabinets behind him. Pendrell grabbed his towel, covered his slick erection, tied the towel securely, and put his hands to his temples. He took a lurching step toward Mulder and then swooned back, pressing hard at his skull with both hands.

"I'm sorry." He finally managed to gasp out. "I didn't want to do this." Pendrell grabbed his clothes and lurched into the living room without waiting for a reply as Mulder scrambled to his feet. Pendrell hopped toward the bathroom, one leg in his jeans, they were getting the hell out of here, and now. He stopped short when Mulder blocked his way.

"You're sure about this Sean?" Mulder asked. Pendrell looked into the hazel eyes that had captured and held him, bound and enslaved, just moments ago. Suddenly they were just eyes, a little sad, and lovely, but just eyes. 

"Yeah, I'm, sure Mulder." he replied. He put his hand on the other man's chest, feeling his body rising and falling with breath, that was all it was after all, just a body, just like everyone else's. 

"I'm happy now," Pendrell said. "I've got something solid here, It isn't all fireworks and solar flares, but it's real, and it's safe." Pendrell brought his hand up to Mulder's cheek, "Can you understand that?" Mulder cupped Pendrell's hand in his bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly, without passion, before releasing it.

"Sure, Sean, whatever you say." Pendrell could see the tension drain out of the man, like he was accepting something, that he had fought against. It was more than just a loss of sexual tension between them, much more. Pendrell started to ask about it when he heard the bathroom door open. Spender, freshly scrubbed and dressed in last night clothes stepped out, grinning.

"Your turn, Pen" he said as he stepped down the hallway. Mulder stepped back into the living room as Spender approached. Pendrell could see the slouch in his shoulders as he moved, he was a man defeated. Pendrell grabbed Spender's hand and pulled him into a clinch. Defeated by what, though? "I think I'll wait till we get home, c'mon." 

Mulder stood facing the window, staring out through the slightly parted curtains. The morning sun streaming in through the part lit Mulder with a diffused glow, he looked like a sad, rumpled angel. Pendrell quickly slipped into his jeans and T-shirt, watching Mulder's back as he dressed. Spender slipped quietly out of the apartment, glancing only briefly at Mulder, his face a mix of confusion and contrition. Pendrell whispered for him to go on ahead.

Alone with Mulder Pendrell approached quietly. Mulder stood unmoving as Pendrell came close, his hands at his side. "Mulder, I'm sorry, but things are different now. Jay and I, we've got something special." Pendrell slipped his arms around Mulder's waist and put his head on the other man's back. He could feel Mulder's cheat heaving in rapid leaps.

Pendrell felt a sudden rush of sadness, and a deep need to comfort him. He pulled Mulder tight, as if he could draw out his sorrow with just a touch. "I know, Sean." Pendrell pulled Mulder tighter, clasping their hands together and placing his head on his shoulder. 

"Shh. Shh" Pendrell whispered into his ear. Thing's are going to be okay, it's okay."

Pendrell opened his eyes and looked out onto the street below. Jay was standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, waiting. Spender turned back and looked at the building, shielding his eyes from the late-morning sun. Pendrell started, he was doing it again, a moment of contact with Mulder and he was lost. Pendrell jerked his arms from Mulder's grasp and stepped back, he felt suddenly distant and distracted. The room seemed to retreat in the distance and snap into sharp focus at the same time. 

He stumbled toward the door sputtering useless apologies before he bolted down the stairs, banging first into one wall then another in his flight. He slammed the building door open and stopped. He breathed, once, twice and stepped outside, calmly closing the door behind him. He trotted down the walk trying to force his racing pulse down below heart attack levels.

"Let's go home Jay"

* * *

Mulder sat on his couch and waited. He had watched till Pendrell and Spender had finally disappeared, and then watched for a while longer. He didn't wait long. He could already hear the soft tread on the hallway stairs. Fate and the unavoidable hand of destiny moved things along as they saw fit, no matter how hard you struggled, fate and destiny will out. The apartment door swung open, without a knock, what was the need anyway?

"I'm here, Mulder."

[End]

Thanks for reading this bit of lust and destiny. For the rest of Mulder's story and the identity of his destiny see the `Tooms' series by yours truly. For more on Spender & Pendrell check out The Ferret Cage.

Drovar


End file.
